Philadelphia
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 7 - 4:00 P.M.
It was time to deal with Charles Stanhope III. The others had been strangers. Charles had been her lover, the father of her unborn child, and he had turned his back on both of them.
Ernestine and Al had been at the New Orleans Airport to see Tracy off.
"I'm gonna miss you," Ernestine had said. "You sure set this town on its ass. They oughta run you for people's mayor."
"Whatcha gonna do in Philly?" Al had asked.
She had told them half the truth. "Go back to my old job at the bank."
Ernestine and Al had exchanged a glance. "They - er - know you're comin'?"
"No. But the vice-president likes me. There won't be a problem. Good computer operators are hard to find."
"Well, good luck. Keep in touch, ya hear? And stay out of trouble, girl."
Thirty minutes later Tracy had been in the air, bound for Philadelphia.
She checked into the Hilton Hotel and steamed out her one good dress over the hot tub. At 11:00 the following morning she walked into the bank and approached Clarence Desmond's secretary.
"Hello, Mae."
The girl stared at Tracy as though she were seeing a ghost. "Tracy!" She did not know where to look. "I - how are you?"
"Fine. Is Mr. Desmond in?"
"I - I don't know. Let me see. Excuse me." She rose from her chair, flustered, and hurried into the vice-president's office.
She came out a few moments later. "You may go in." She edged away as Tracy walked toward the door.
What's the matter with her? Tracy wondered.
Clarence Desmond was standing next to his desk.
"Hello, Mr. Desmond. Well, I've come back," Tracy said brightly.
"What for?" His tone was unfriendly. Definitely unfriendly.
It caught Tracy by surprise. She pressed on. "Well, you said I was the best computer operator you had ever seen, and I thought - "
"You thought I'd give you back your old job?"
"Well, yes, sir. I haven't forgotten any of my skills. I can still - "
"Miss Whitney." It was no longer Tracy. "I'm sorry, but what you're asking is quite out of the question. I'm sure you can understand that our customers would not wish to deal with someone who served time in the penitentiary for armed robbery and attempted murder. That would hardly fit in with our high ethical image. I think it unlikely that given your background, any bank would hire you. I would suggest that you try to find employment more suitable to your circumstances. I hope you understand there is nothing personal in this."
Tracy listened to his words, first with shock and then with growing anger. He made her sound like an outcast, a leper. We wouldn't want to lose you. You're one of our most valuable employees.
"Was there anything else, Miss Whitney?" It was a dismissal.
There were a hundred things Tracy wanted to say, but she knew they would do no good. "No. I think you've said it all." Tracy turned and walked out the office door, her face burning. All the bank employees seemed to be staring at her. Mae had spread the word: The convict had come back. Tracy moved toward the exit, head held high, dying inside. I can't let them do this to me. My pride is all I have left, and no one is going to take that away from me.
Tracy stayed in her room all day, miserable. How could she have been naive enough to believe that they would welcome her back with open arms? She was notorious now. "You're the headline in the Philadelphia Daily News." Well, to hell with Philadelphia, Tracy thought. She had some unfinished business there, but when that was done, she would leave. She would go to New York, where she would be anonymous. The decision made her feel better.
That evening, Tracy treated herself to dinner at the Caf
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